


Little Bear

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You do know you’re painting it the wrong colour?” Jaime enquired pleasantly with a yawn, forgoing a more customary means of greeting as Brienne realised she had lost all track of time. It was still dark outside but that wasn’t much of a help since winter was now rapidly drawing in. “I thought we’d decided on that nondescript custard colour. We certainly spent long enough in the shop to have made that decision.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bear

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little domestic fluff ficlet that came to me after an afternoon of painting left as much paint on me, the ceiling, and the carpet (whoops) as there was on the wall! It seems to show that all things in life can be brought back to JB when I'm on a writing roll!
> 
> A big, huge, massive thank you to RoseHeart for being the best beta a girl could ever wish or hope for, and a great friend through absolutely everything! And thank you to everyone who has been supportive of me and my writing. I love you all!

Brienne heard the front door slam behind her and couldn’t stop herself from jumping, glad that she was once again standing on solid ground and not precariously perched on the borrowed stepladder, paintbrush in hand, as she had been moments earlier. Jaime, the man behind the over exuberant closing of the door to their apartment, and her boyfriend of the last two and half years, had requested that she not start redecorating until he got home. He had been full of reminders that they were in this together and she didn’t have to do everything by herself, but much wanted sleep had kept slipping out of her grasp and, besides, there were jobs that needed doing. She knew he worried about her, the only man, other than her father, who actually loved and cared enough to do so, and it both warmed and terrified her to linger too much on the deep feelings that having Jaime close brought bubbling to the surface.

It wasn’t too long ago that they’d been exchanging punches rather than kisses, dancing around the boxing ring at her local gym, a place more often frequented by off duty police officers rather than high school history teachers like herself. It was here where Jaime had bragged, between insults, about being the only one on the roster who was strong enough to take her. He’d gone home that first night with an ego as bruised as his pretty face, although their sparring had been so close at times that she had ended up pinned to the ropes more than once, his warm breath in her face as she fought to control the shivers that were threatening to run up her uncovered limbs. His defeat was taken with far more grace than she thought he could possess as they only practiced against each other after that, respect being built slowly until time allowed it to turn into friendship and, eventually, more.

She kept staring at the half finished wall as Jaime easily strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time as if trying to get to her sooner, so the disappointment that would likely be etched into the crinkles around his eyes would remain invisible for long as possible. Twinges of guilt twitched down her fingers, feeling him pause in the doorway, as she pre-emptively tried to formulate a counterattack to whatever barb he was about to throw across the room.

“You do know you’re painting it the wrong colour?” he enquired pleasantly with a yawn, forgoing a more customary means of greeting as Brienne realised she had lost all track of time. It was still dark outside but that wasn’t much of a help since winter was now rapidly drawing in. “I thought we’d decided on that nondescript custard colour. We certainly spent long enough in the shop to have made that decision.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise”, she replied sharply, waving her free hand at the drying sea of cobalt blue, too tired to properly argue with him since Jaime was more in the mood to be playfully sarcastic than downright vicious. “I wanted to have it all done for you coming home, but I’ve been marking midterms and I didn’t get around to starting until a few hours ago.”

“Just because the last time we tried this there ended up being more paint on us than the walls doesn’t mean I always have to be such a distraction. I’ll behave if you promise to keep your hands to yourself as well.”

Forgetting about the recent shift in her centre of gravity, Brienne none too gracefully spun around to face her smirking boyfriend, Jaime running his eyes over her face, ugly and freckled and scarred as it was, with the same flickers of affection she had unknowingly been met with in between arguments since before their messy, sweaty first kiss. She was capable of returning the same look, first thing in the morning curled up in bed without a care in the world or after painstakingly passionate sex or even when he did something utterly reckless with the best intentions, but right now the power of her glare could have burned right through him. “If you weren’t so fond of surprises, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation”, she grumbled, wincing at the sudden discomfort rippling across her abdomen. Jaime followed her rising paint splattered hand to her protruding stomach, two weeks away of dealing with the loopholes and legalities of his father’s last will and testament finally making an impression on her tall, broad figure. “Since this little one keeps interrupting at the least convenient moments, _he’s_ already his father’s son.”

“Need I remind you who the stubborn one is in this relationship? If _she’s_ half as headstrong as her mother, we’re going to be in for some fireworks.”

Brienne sighed, her feet beginning to ache from standing for so long. “If you’re right, and that’s a big if, Jaime, I give you permission to paint this room any colour you want. Apart from fuchsia.”

He pushed himself up from the still unvarnished doorframe, a beaming grin splitting his face like he had already won, walking into the room to envelop her in a hug that Brienne felt right down to her tired bones. “How can you be so sure that _you’re_ right?” he asked, running his lips over her cheek and temple as she rested her head on his shoulder as best she could with the baby in the middle, happy to have him safely home, although it hadn’t been the dangers of work that had taken him away this time, his soft kisses making her skin tingle.

“Mother’s intuition. Arthur’s going to be an adorable menace, but I’ll not be able to love him more.” She turned her head into Jaime’s neck, losing her words to mumbles into the warmth, the swirling mess of hormones making her more prone to declarations. “Just like you.”

“You’re getting sappy in your old age”, he laughed, though he held her tighter, his next touches landing along her hairline. “And you’ve got paint in your hair. Wait…Arthur?”

“I-I just thought…he was your partner for over ten years and your friend for longer.” Arthur Dayne, the pride of KLPD, had died long enough ago for the pain to dull but no so many months had passed since the night at the ironically named Tower of Joy for Jaime not to still, sometimes, to be plagued with reliving the events in his sleep. “I looked it up in that book your brother gave me, it apparently means bear. Y-you don’t mind do you?”

Jaime shook his head, stubble prickling against her cheek, the friction making her shiver and snuggle closer, the man who had an answer for everything speechless but for a second. “But I get to name the next one.”

“Next one? What makes you think there’s going to be a next one?”

“Of course there’s going to be a next one.” She pulled back and he winked. “We’ve had far too much fun making _this_ one not to try again at some point.”

“Let’s wait until he’s in our arms before we make that decision.”

Jaime nodded in agreement, although the smile twitching at his lips spoke of far more salacious things. “Hand me a paintbrush then, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment if you have time :)


End file.
